Viva Voce
by LilyCanBeMyPyjamas
Summary: Love is patient, love is kind.


**This is for marsupial1974 who sent me a message the other week, checking up on me and letting me know I was on her mind. This is also for Christine. And for Joanne. And all the others I've touched with my stories and whom touched me. I want to say sorry to all of you, for different reasons.**

 **This is goodbye. I realised the last you've heard from me wasn't worthy of being that. Goodbye. This site and the people here were there for me when life was tough and I was buried in a hole. So I want to give you this, shitty it might be as I'm rusty, but at least it's something. And I'm sorry that I won't be finishing Paradise Hotel and Make Me A Bird. I know they would've turned out great, and that you would've loved them. Especially Make Me A Bird.**

 **I am doing so well. I am growing beyond borders I didn't dare get close to a year ago. In growing I experience my self confidence sky rocketing in comparison to what was (Look Ma! I went out and asked a girl for her number. And got it.) but I also experience outgrowing things. Being a fanfiction writer is one of those things. And it's sad but it's necessary. I love writing, and having someone read it is half the reason I do it, but it's time for me to connect in other ways. I won't be leaving writing, I never could, but I want to practice it differently. And I wished I could take you all with me, just put you in my pocket and have you cheer for me whenever I needed it. Cause that's what you were to me. You lifted me when everything was dark.**

 **And this is getting to be the longest author's note ever. I guess some of you will appreciate it, and some of you probably already knows this. Here it is. My last tale of Naomi and Emily.**

I was 8 years old when I arrived in this city. The lights danced in the bus windows in the late night as I drove into this new chapter of my life. Mum had finally found someone who was willing to hire her, so for the third time in my life I welcomed a new hometown. Bristol.

We lived with three other men, in a flat meant to house far less than that. The kitchen sink was always full and the lady on the corner always yelled at me when I walked by. But at least I had food in my stomach, which was more than my last home provided.

At school no one took interest in the new girl with the short, blonde hair and too quick of a tongue, if not to mock and spit at her. My mum told me they couldn't see how special I was. I told myself it was because I wasn't worth knowing.

–-

I was 10 years old when I got my first job in a corner shop. My mum said we needed more money now that we got a place to ourselves. It was here that I made my first friend.

He was a year older than me, scruffy and with a mouth dirtier than the pothole outside. First I thought he would be like the others at my school, sending me home with a bloody nose. Imagine my surprise when he turned out to be the reason I never got a bloody nose again at school.

He was the one introducing me to smoking, and when we hung out around the back, he always used to tell me «You and me blondie, we're scum, but at least we're scum together.» and I always answered with ruffling up his hair and muttering a «fuck off, Cookie».

In the years following, he turned out to be a petty criminal. But I didn't care, I had someone who cared for me for the first time in my life who wasn't my mum.

–-

I was 12 years old the first time I saw her. She came swinging in the door, her soft, scarlet hair flowing down her shoulders, rushing in to buy a pack of drops and a bottle of soda. I was so thunderstruck behind the counter, and Cook had to actually bump into me to make me stop staring wide eyed at her and actually punch in her items.

She thanked me with a wide smile, and was gone as fast as she arrived. Her burning eyes was left haunting my mind.

Cook whistled from beside me. "Did you see that handbag? And those shoes? She must be minted."

I looked down on my own holey shoes and dirty jeans. And I can't believe I didn't say one word to her.

She turned out to become a regular around the shop, and I never failed to be struck utterly useless whenever she would enter. More often than not, Cook or some of the other employees would have to sort her orders out.

One time Cook commented on how it seemed the cat got my tongue whenever a certain redhead entered the place. I told him to zip it. And that was the last he said of it.

–-

I used to look down on my own appearance when she'd left and thought that a girl like me could never get a girl like that. Never mind I hadn't told anyone I was gay, try adding that to being a poor, brainy student and see how much more hate one can receive in school. I just couldn't see a world where I would be good enough for someone like her.

–-

I learned her name the third time she was in the shop. The reason of it was her other half who was loudly yelling at her. Obnoxious was the word in my head.

Emily was her name.

And Emily became a safe visiter of my dreams thereafter.

–-

I was 13 when Cook finally called me out.

"You got a crush on Emily." when I was about to protest, he just laughed loudly. "Aw, come one blondie, your face whenever she walks in tells a story of itself."

I sighed, knowing that he, a poor rat like me, would understand.

"I don't know Cook, how come that whenever I come home and tell my mum how much I've earned for the month and her face lights up I feel like a superhero, but when I am here around those wealthy kids who has everything they need, I feel like the biggest loser there ever was?"

"Tough shit that." he got a serious look in his eyes, before it was gone in favour for his hallmark grin.

–-

She would walk around the shop with her little trolley, and smile politely at me when she passed. I smiled politely and nervously back from where I usually stood stacking products. The products had fallen from my hands more times than I like to admit in those situations.

She was just always so fucking beautiful. Her hair and clothes were always lovely, and she seemed so confident, seemed more confident for every day passing. And then it was me, pathetic, soppy Naomi. Too lovestruck to even get a coherent word out.

Cook, the ever flirter he was with each girl coming in and out, actually let her off easy on that part. I knew he did it for me, because no way he didn't find her attractive. She could've made the world turn the other way, if she wanted.

–-

One day she came in with a boy. He had big curly hair and a childish smile. He showed a magic trick to Cook which made Emily laugh. I studied her while she watched him. And I knew that they were together.

The whole day I went around scolding myself, wondering how I could be so stupid to make this fantasy up about us. Now it certainly was no use.

And yet I ignored the little voice in the back of my head, whispering annoyingly in the background.

' _Would you ever have tried anyway?_ '

–-

I had become 15, and was still useless. Except from at home, there I was the golden daughter. I managed to keep up a good paying job and still acing all my subjects at school. It was just on the social spectre I was lacking.

Everywhere around me people had groups of friends or were holding hands with their sweethearts in the parks. And where were I? At the exact same spot as 3 years ago.

It's not that Cook didn't try, I was always dragged around to another party. Drank som beer. Smoked some weed. But I didn't feel grounded there. It was all a play on the outside, while on my inside there was a completely different movie playing. This wasn't me. That girl wasn't me.

I was 15, and I didn't even know who I was.

–-

My favourite hobby, besides perving on a certain someone, was losing myself in books. In adventures, and facts, and personalities, and words. I found common ground more often there, than out here in the real world. If there sometime, somewhere, were someone writing _that_ story which reverberated so deeply with me – maybe there were others out there like me. Searching. Knowing it all went deeper than what it seemed. _Wanting_ a connection deeper than anything could express.

–-

At 17 I was still hired on the same corner shop. Cook had sadly left for the benefit of the great juvenile hall, after an episode with a gun and three grams of white. I didn't ask too much, but still I was there, sending him off.

And I was alone again.

And Emily was still visiting the shop on occasion. Sometimes alone, sometimes hand in hand with a boy or a girl (!) and sometimes with a whole group of friends, more often than not drunk.

So yes, Emily liked girls to some degree, I had learned that. But it was still like the air of confidence I could muster to build up always flew out the window when she entered.

And sometimes I hated her for it. Hated how she had all that power over me. Even though she was just a girl, I could sometimes lay in bed cursing her on how she could do this to me.

Some nights I even convinced myself she did it on purpose.

–-

I was 18 and I was working on universities applications. I had grown massively in the last year. Even kissed a girl or two. Decided to sort myself out, at least get a degree to honour the old mother who put herself through so much for me.

The corner shop was still the place I spent most of my time, trying to save up enough money to get by.

–-

For every night that passed, the dark came a little later, until the nights were light and the college kids starting roaming the streets in the nice temperature.

It was on one of these nights where I was set to close up the corner shop in the early morning. This was by far a regular occurrence, but what was sitting outside wasn't.

Emily was perched on the pavement, head in her hands, and looking utterly done with the world. She didn't notice me, she never seemed to do so, but I was left standing with the key in my hand and a bleeding, beating heart in my chest.

Was this it? Was this the ultimate chance?

I could turn around and walk the other way, and no one would be the wiser. It would be like it never happened, and I could live under my safe, isolated shell. Or I could turn this self beating habit right now. Right. Now.

It seemed my feet decided for me, because suddenly I was walking towards her, with no plan in mind. She just looked so alone, and I know how that feels. It was like this sudden urge filled my whole body with energy, despite my ego yelling 'No! You fool! You're no match for her!'

But before I knew it, I was standing right in front of her on the street, hearing my own heart in my ears. She looked up at me, raising her eyebrows.

"Hi!" I spluttered, not at all in the way I had imagined our first conversation would be for so many years.

"So, she speaks." she answered, seeming a bit amused.

"Oh, well, once in a while."

"Glad I could be around for this annual happening."

I looked down and smiled, actually smiled, very unlike me. She watched me with curious eyes. Her eyes gave me a new found confidence I didn't knew lived in me.

I pointed to the pavement beside her. "May I sit?"

She only nods and follows me with her eyes as I join her.

She seemed to snap out of whatever she was thinking. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've introduced ourselves. I'm Emily."

I took her outreached hand. "I know," before I baktracked, "Uh, I mean, I'm Naomi."

"Nice to meet you." she said with a knowing smile, definitely having heard my slip up.

"Are you okay? Sitting here this late, I mean." I changed the subject.

"Oh," she turned away, "yeah, yeah I just... some stuff with my sister. She's being a real pain in the arse."

There were some screams from down the street, and a deafening yell for 'Emily'!

I saw a few people raving about, looking really drunk.

"Shit, that's my sister. What do you say about getting out of here?"

Before I could answer, she had already grabbed my hand and was leading me over the road, into a small side street. She guided us to the side of a wall where she instructed me with her eyes to stay still and be quiet. Outside, her sister and friends walked by without a clue.

I couldn't stop watching her, as she watchfully kept an eye with the road. A night ago I thought I'd never even speak to her, and now we were pressed together in an alley.

"Phew!" she declared at last, "couldn't stand a minute more of her meddling in my life."

"Does she do a lot of that?"

"Entirely too much, getting a bit tiresome. Not really feeling like partying more tonight."

I nodded, and just watched her.

In the end she smiled and invited me for a walk in the park with her before she went home. I would be an idiot not to accept.

We didn't speak much, she threw out a joke from time to time, but nothing more. When we reached the end of the park, where there also happened to be a night club, she suggested we'd turn around.

My head had been running overtime, my old doubts were swirling, and the questions were collecting in a huge heap. In the end, I guess Emily noticed.

"I mean, I guess I expected you to be quiet, but this is extreme." she said in the end.

With a huge breath and a last glance back at the youth hanging outside the club, I decided for once to spill my heart. This night was made for making or breaking it anyways.

"I... I just don't understand why you're choosing to spend your night with me."

"Huh?" she furrowed her brows.

"I mean, when you compare me with them, your friends, I'm nothing. I don't have money, I don't know cool people, I can't do cool stuff. Not like you guys. I don't know shit about make up or sport cars or the pop lists. I can site Keating, but I have no idea what the latest gossip is. I don't have much, and I guess that have shaped me into the person I am. So I'm just... wondering why you would rather be walking with me tonight when you could be much happier with them."

Emily looked at me for a long while, probably reading my envy for the high and rich in my eyes. Before she smiled, like she knew something I didn't.

"But don't you get it Naomi? Money isn't happiness. You decide what happiness is. Happiness is different for all people. My definition of it is not the same as my sister's or anyone in that club. Their designer clothes and the amount in their bank accounts don't interest me. Maybe you should stop comparing yourself with other people and rather celebrate who you are instead. Because, believe me, just a handful of those in that night club is being true to themselves."

It was my turn to stare.

"Wow."

"Hit the nail on the head did I?" she asked with a cheeky grin, coming to stop with one of the gates in the park. "Well, I live down this street, are you okay to walk home on your own?"

"Uh, sure." I answered, still a bit taken aback of her wisdom. Had I been underestimating Emily?

She shuffled her feet, suddenly seeming a bit unsure, before smiling again. "So, when are you going to ask me for my number?"

I was so surprised I just gave her my phone for her to punch it in. She did, and also rang herself afterwards.

"There. Sorted. Have a nice evening, Naomi." she said, before turning and walking down the street. No hugs and no kisses. Not that I expected any. Or did I?

What was this? Why did we exchange numbers? For friends, or for something more? My head was reeling again.

I checked my phone to see what she had named herself in my contact list, if it was something cheesy like any other teenage movie. It wasn't. It was just a simple 'Emily'. And I liked that very much.

–-

Almost a week had gone by. And I had just not mustered up the courage to message or ring her. Oh, there were times my fingered hovered over the button, but still my thoughts told me these old tales of unworthiness and shame.

I was waiting for the bus as I thought I saw her again. A small girl with red hair. This was the third time. Do you ever find yourself wishing to see someone so bad you imagine seeing them in someone similar? A flair of red? A glimpse of warm, brown eyes? No? Well, I did.

And this time, the third time it happened, I knew I had it bad and couldn't ignore it anymore. I fished up my phone and pressed call before I could change myself. My stomach was flying, I was so nervous.

She picked up.

"Hey."

"Hey." I answered back, trying to seem non chalant.

"I was just thinking about you."

This threw me off my game.

"You were?" I couldn't hide the shock in my voice.

"Yeah. What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the bus."

"Exciting."

"Um, yeah." I answered, feeling terribly uncool.

"So..." she said after a while, "you called me."

"I did." I said, trying to grasp for something, something that didn't seem to be there. "I was wondering..." the fuck was I wondering about?

"You were wondering." she echoed, sounding a bit amused.

"Yeah, I was, um, wondering if you wanted to join me..." and then it stopped again. Damn brain. What the hell could I ask her to join me on, what was good enough for a girl like Emily? Was it even a date, or just a hang out? What's a normal thing to do besides meeting to smoke some weed or talk shit?

After too much silence, it seemed Emily took matters into her own hands.

"You were wondering if I would join you on a picnic down by the river, is that it?"

"Uh, yes."

"Brilliant. I would love to. Tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure." I answered, dumbfounded.

"Okay, meet with the bridge at 3 then. See you."

And she was gone.

I was left staring at my phone for several minutes, before a big, breaking smile split my face in half. I never smiled. I also never missed my bus, but this time I had.

–-

She brought a book along with some rolled tortilla wraps with different salads in. I only brought sandwiches. She told me she loved my peanut butter jelly ones. I loved the sparkle in her eyes.

She made me read out loud from the book as we lazed on a blanket, overseeing the river.

She told me about her family.

I told her about my mum.

She smiled whenever I talked about something I was passionate about, and it gave me more confidence.

She said she wanted to meet again. So we did.

–-

I had kind of accepted in my head that we were meant to be just friends, but I couldn't help but feel grateful, because I could really talk to her about anything. I brought her to a local cafe that wasn't too expensive, definitely on my toes that it wasn't up to her standards, but she seemed to enjoy the variety of customers and the distinct atmosphere there. She said she wanted to experience more than stuck up kids with more money that they could spend. She wanted the authentic part of life.

–-

She never touched me, not even a goodbye hug when we parted. It told me that she saw me as a good friend. And it was sad, but I took what I was offered. Until one day she punched me off my balance again.

–-

"When are you going to ask me out on a date?"

We were lying on the hill outside my house, soaking up the sun, when she broke the silence and asked.

Flabbergasted, I answered "I didn't know you wanted to go on one?"

"The question is, do you?"

"I've wanted to for longer than you know." I said with as meaningful a look I could muster.

And then she kissed me.

–-

It turned out, having someone reach for your hand is a pretty damn good feeling.

And Emily was right. Well, she was right about almost everything, that girl. But she was right about happiness. When I just stopped focusing on what everyone had which I was lacking, and instead appreciating what I enjoyed doing in life, my outlook on life changed drastically.

I wouldn't say she saved me, but she helped me save myself. From depression, from envy, from loneliness.

Because loneliness is a choice.

And I choose it no more.

–-

Our first date was out on a boat. Arranged by Cook, who was finally out. How he managed to arrange that, I will never know, but it was quite the romantic setting.

It turns out, I'm quite the romantic also. And reading a lot of books had given me the repertory to create beautiful lines to match the beautiful girl with me.

–-

She talked a lot. She had ideas and plans and desires. Her hunger for life was refreshing. I was the more quiet kind, the ying to her yang. I listened whole heartedly to everything she said. And she opened up her heart to me so I could open mine to the world.

I became bolder. I didn't feel the need to hide myself or who I was. When before I would walk around doing a regular thing, I would always think to myself that those around me were watching me, judging me. Because I was a nobody. But that had never been true. And I saw that now. I had always been enough, my head had just tricked me. It was a sabotage, but it wasn't on purpose. I couldn't fix it before I knew better, and now I did. Now I could do whatever I wanted, without doubts and without embarrassment.

She told me, after a few glasses of wine one night, that she had in parts of her life visited the corner shop more often than she needed to, because she'd felt drawn to the presence of me. Like there was more about me than met the eye. I told her she'd always kept my admiration a prisoner.

But still, I wasn't dependent on her. I became my own person. I knew I would get by if I lost her, but I didn't want to get by without her. And I couldn't imagine a day I would.

I introduced her to my mum, who loved her. She introduced me to her mum, who hated me.

Before the summer began, Emily was surely becoming more than I ever imagined. She was becoming a friend, a soulmate, a listener and now, a lover.

–-

I never pushed for sex. Simply Emily was enough for me, but boy did I imagine it sometimes. The fantasy could never replace the reality though. And when in the aftermath she was laying stroking my back delicately with her trembling fingers, I knew I could never thank myself enough for making my way over to her that night outside the corner shop.

"Love is patient, love is kind." she whispered out in the darkness, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"Love?" I turned my head to look into her incredibly soft eyes.

"You." she answered, and put her face to mine.

And I knew she loved me like I loved her.

–-

 **At last, I want to say to you, don't wait for your Emily or Naomi to save you or to make life worth living. You attract what you are. Be the potential you got. Be the best you. Be kind to yourself and love yourself. Because when you love yourself, you can love another. If you don't, then the person you love have the potential to break you, and that isn't healthy. They won't give you everything. You will.**

 **Love is patient, love is kind.**


End file.
